


the world in greys and blues

by arborescenti



Category: Mass Effect (Comics), Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect - Various Authors, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/M, Family Feels, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian - Freeform, Implied Male Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Post-Mass Effect 3, Vakarian family - Freeform, Vignettes, teffea is like dextro tea/coffee/caffeinated morning beverage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19257871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arborescenti/pseuds/arborescenti
Summary: A series of vignettes centered around Garrus Vakarian and his family, spanning from his childhood on Palaven to his life after the Reaper War."When was the last time we sat around like this, like a family, just... relaxing? I mean, look at you, Garrus, you're wearing an apron and cooking breakfast."





	the world in greys and blues

Solana Vakarian hummed from her seat by the counter, leaning over a steaming mug of teffea to watch her brother lope around the spacious turian kitchen. "When was the last time we did this?"

"Hm...? What do you mean, Sol?" Garrus opened the cryo unit and rummaged around, not bothering to turn around to face his sister. Solana's chair creaked as she leaned back and took a sip from her mug.

"When was the last time we sat around like this, like a family, just... relaxing? I mean, look at you, Garrus, you're wearing an apron and cooking breakfast."

Garrus paused, elbows-deep in the cryo unit with his talons wrapped around a frozen slab of pale purple meat. When was the last time he'd spent a lazy morning with his family? Garrus honestly couldn't recall. It must've been before preparations began for the Reaper War, before his stint in Omega, before the investigation into Saren. The last time they'd been together like this, his mother had still been... herself.

* * *

It was Matriarch's Day, and for once both Castis and Garrus were on Palaven to celebrate it. Vissa was having one of her better days; she recognized her family, and swept Garrus into a tight embrace the moment she'd walked into the central room and spotted her son lounging on the sofa. She'd tilted his head up and pressed her browplates to his in an affectionate nuzzle. Were he younger, were his mother healthy, Garrus might've groaned and twisted out of her grasp. Instead, he nuzzled her back, resting his long arms on her cowl and holding her close.

"Morning, Mom."

"Good morning, Garrus, and what a surprise! You should've told me you were coming home! Did you arrive this morning?"

Garrus fought the urge to tense. He'd actually arrived the morning before. Vissa hadn't recognized him. No, she had pulled a pistol (one that she'd modded herself) on her son and was prepared to shoot the 'intruder' point-blank before Solana showed up just in time to talk their mother down.

But Garrus couldn't bring himself to tell Vissa the truth. Not when she was so happy to see him. He just hoped his subharmonics wouldn't betray the guilt he felt.

"Came in on the first transport to Cipritine. I didn't want to spend a second of Matriarch's Day without seeing your lovely face."

His mother had released him from her embrace, then, and fixed her sharp, azure eyes on him in one of those inscrutable, no-nonsense stares that only mothers can pull off. It was a look that Vissa would pin him with when she sensed a lie. That look always made Garrus squirm as a child. Apparently, Garrus mused as he shifted uncomfortably, some things never changed.

Vissa could tell something was off. She always could. She held her son at arms' length, hands planted firmly on his shoulders. "Garrus, dear. Is there something you're not telling me?"

With considerable effort, Garrus schooled his posture into one of carefree nonchalance. His mind raced as he scrambled to concoct a believable excuse, something that wouldn't force them to confront the reality of Vissa's illness on a day that was supposed to be lighthearted and celebratory. It was Solana who saved Garrus (again) when she bounced into the room, beaming. "Morning, you two. And Happy Matriarch's Day, Mom!"

Vissa dissolved into smiles again at the sight of her daughter and wrapped her in a one-armed hug, giving Solana a quick nuzzle before releasing her. "And a good morning to you too, Solana."

Castis had been the last one to enter the room. At the sight of his father, Garrus instinctively stiffened, but the elder Vakarian simply clapped his son on the shoulder as he passed the sofa and swept Vissa into his arms. "Happy Matriarch's Day, Vis."

Garrus could still see, clear as day, how his mother practically radiated in Castis' embrace. She'd cupped his right mandible in one taloned hand, leaning in to nuzzle her husband. "Mmm... thank you, my love."

* * *

Garrus pulled his arms out of the cryo unit, meat in hand, and closed the unit slowly before turning to face his sister, left mandible half-flared. He was quiet for a moment. "Good question, Sol. I can't seem to remember."

Wrong answer. Solana's smile dimmed, and her mandibles drew in ever so slightly. "I guess it's really been a long time, then."

Garrus cringed. It  _had_  been a long time. Of course, he'd been busy trying to save the galaxy for the past few years, but there had been many an opportunity for him to request a stop or few at Palaven. Garrus rarely asked for anything, and Shepard would've granted him at least a couple days of shore leave, no questions asked, if he'd really wanted. It was just...

It was hard.

It was hard to see his vibrant, witty, talented, beautiful, loving  _mother_  reduced to a trembling husk of a turian, living a life divided into 'bad days' and 'good days,' until every day became a bad day, and Vissa Vakarian died in a mass of lesioned neurons long before her body passed away.

It was hard, seeing his precious little sister worn ragged by the costs—fiscal and emotional—of taking care of a mother who was steadily disappearing, and to see the blame, anger, and, perhaps worst of all, resignation in Solana's eyes when she looked at Garrus.

It was hard, realizing he now had to look  _down_  to meet Castis' eyes and face the reality that the authoritative, imposing figure Garrus had grown up admiring and loathing in equal parts was now but another old turian, weathered by time and crippled by grief as he watched, helpless, as the love of his life wasted away.

Garrus could laugh, really. Of all the nightmare-inducing abominations he'd faced, from battling Saren's reanimated Reaper corpse to watching the Normandy's crew melt into paste to gunning down mauraders with familiar colony markings, nothing was more difficult to face than the gradual decay of his family. It had been easier, so much easier, to immerse himself in the aim-shoot-reload of battle, or the calculate-type-input of calibrations. It had been easy to forget that soon, he might have no family left to return to.

Garrus nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Sol, it has been a long time. But I'm here now, and I'll be here for the, uh, foreseeable future."

_'But why weren't you here before? Why weren't you here when it mattered? When Mom was still alive?'_

Solana didn't speak the words, but Garrus could practically hear the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Solana sighed, took another sip of her teffea, and fluttered her mandible in something between a smile and a grimace. "Let's just hope your teffea brewing skills improve before the 'foreseeable future' ends, then."

Garrus snorted and turned his attention to the steadily warming pan on the stove. As he laid the meat in the pan, he made a silent promise.

_'I will, Sol. I'll improve.'_

* * *

" _Mom_! Mom mom mom mom mom mom!"

"Solana,  _no_!"

Solana came barreling into the kitchen, her older brother hot on her spurs. Vissa turned, a spoon in one hand and a tin of teffea in the other, and looked down at the distraught turian girl clinging to her leg. "What seems to be the matter, Sol, my dear?"

Solana's mandibles were vibrating and her subvocals were keening in the turian equivalent of a sob. "Mom, moooom, Gaaarrus-!"

Garrus' browplates rose and his mandibles snapped to his cheeks. "So _la_ na! you _said_  you wouldn't  _tell!_ "

Vissa frowned. "Tell whom what?"

" _Solana_! Don't!"

"Mooooooom! Garrus! Garrus did-!"

" _Sol_!" Garrus' subharmonics were pitching frantically, "Sol, if you tell her I-! I-I-I-I won't  _like_  you anymore!"

The keening broke into a wail. Vissa held back a sigh.

"Garrus, you know that's no way to talk to your sister."

"But-!" Vissa gave her son a  _look_ and his mouth snapped shut.

"Now, Solana, can you calm down and tell me what happened?"

The little turian squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "If I tell you than Garrus won't like me anymore so I can't tell you that I let Garrus borrow my toy because we were making you something but then he messed up and broke my toy and he said he'd buy me a new one with his birthday credits but— "

Solana shuddered as she bit back a sob. "But...I can't tell you because it's a secret but I said I didn't want a new toy I wanted my old one and Garrus got mad so he pulled on my mandible and that hurt so I said I'd tell you but I can't because if I do he won't like me anymore-!"

Solana dissolved into another round of wails.

Vissa patted her head before leveling her son with a questioning gaze, biting back a laugh at the expression on his face. Garrus looked utterly, totally devastated. His mandibles were limp and his jaw hung open. Anger. Shock. Dismay. His glassy stare was fixed on his sister as a million emotions raced back and forth in his eyes.

"Garrus Vakarian."

Slowly, mechanically, he lifted his eyes to stare into his mother's own. Then he snapped his head down to stare at the tiled kitchen floor.

"Garrus, do you want to tell me your side of the story?"

He huffed, short and sharp, but his words were almost too quiet to hear. "I only pulled her mandible because she  _kicked_ my  _spur_."

Solana's wailing grew louder.

Vissa did sigh, this time, as she set the spoon and tin down and knelt to her daughter's height. "Solana, does your mandible still hurt?"

The girl nodded once, rubbing her mandible for emphasis even as her wailing ebbed into smaller keens.

"And, did you kick your brother's spur?"

The girl nodded again, a smaller motion this time.

"Don't you think kicking your brother hurt him very much, too?"

Solana didn't nod this time, just lowered her head.

"Do you think it's very nice to hurt your own brother?"

Solana peeked up, the faintest trace of defiance in her eyes. "It wasn't very nice of him to break my toy," she warbled out.

Vissa nodded in understanding. "I know, Solana, and I'll be talking to your brother about that very soon."

Solana looked down again. "Good."

"But I need you to answer my question, Solana. Is it very nice to hurt your own brother?"

"...No."

"So I'll need you to apologize to Garrus, okay? Don't just tell him you're sorry, tell him  _why_ you're sorry."

Solana fidgeted for a moment, twisting her hands into the fabric of her shirt, before turning to face her brother. Garrus had regained some of his composure, but he was still tense, and sent a wary look in Vissa's direction every so often. He shifted his gaze to Solana, eyes still angry, and she shrank back. "I'm sorry Garrus, for... that I kicked your spur because I was mad you broke my toy..."

Vissa smiled, but Solana's apology continued. "...And I'm sorry I told Mom about the secret and I know you don't like me anymore but-"

Her voice trembled, and her subharmonics quavered and rose in pitch. "But, but,  _I_  still like you so-"

Garrus' eyes widened as his sister broke into another wail. "Sol, I didn't mean it, not really! It's okay, I still like you too."

"R-really?" The relief in Solana's eyes was palpable as she looked at her brother. Garrus grimaced and scratched his neck. "Yeah. Really."

Solana's wailing stopped again, and her mandibles twitched into a shaky smile. "Okay. I like you, Garrus."

"I know." Garrus smiled too. Vissa patted her daughter again. "Solana, dear, why don't you go back to your room, and I'll have a talk with your brother."

"Okay!" Garrus froze, but Solana ran back to her room, unaware. Vissa watched Solana leave, then turned to face her son. She fixed him with The Stare. Garrus squirmed.

"That was a very big-brotherly way to accept an apology, Garrus. I'm proud."

Garrus stared back at Vissa as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"But," Vissa continued, "We still need to discuss the events that led  _up_  to Solana's apology."

Garrus' head dropped and his shoulders rose. "I don't want to."

Vissa sighed. Again. "Garrus, in life, we encounter many things we don't want to do. Sometimes, we have to do them anyways. Your sister already told me her side of the story. So I'll ask you again. Would you like to tell me your side of the story?"

Garrus clenched his fists and shook his head. "I can't, Mom." His voice was distressed, pleading. "I can't. Not today, at least. I can't."

"Garrus. If you won't tell me, I'll have to get your father involved. Would you like to tell him, instead?"

Usually, invoking Castis was enough to get Garrus or Solana to confess to whatever mischief they'd been up to. This time, though, Garrus only squeezed his hands tighter and shook his head with a renewed ferocity. " _No_!"

Garrus froze. He never yelled at his mom, never  _ever._ He raised his head, just enough to catch a glimpse of his mother's face, and froze again. Vissa's mandibles were drawn in, her browplates dangerously low.

"What did you say, Garrus Vakarian?"

"I..." Garrus faltered, and his next words were laced with keening subharmonics. "It was supposed to be a secret."

Vissa was taken aback. Garrus hadn't keened for a long time, not since he'd gone playing hunter with his air pistol and decimated the skull of a passing bluebird with a well-aimed pellet. ( _"It's dead, Mom, it's_ dead _! I didn't think I'd—I didn't mean to kill it! And now it can't ever sing or fly again, because of me!"_ )

She knelt down and tried a different tactic. Wrapping her hands around Garrus' own, she coaxed his curled fingers out of their fists. "Tell me Garrus, is this a good secret you have?"

"Yeah."

Vissa hummed. No hesitation, there. "But you can't tell this good secret to me or your father?"

"No." Garrus' frown deepened. "...Not yet," he amended.

Vissa rubbed her son's palms in slow, gentle circles as she spoke. "Hmm. So this is something good, something so secret you can't tell your parents, not yet... but not secret enough that you can't tell your baby sister?"

"Yeah."

"Now, Solana said you were making me something? And if it's a secret you can't tell me yet... does this secret have something to do with my birthday tomorrow?"

Garrus tensed. For a moment, the kitchen was silent. The young turian didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe. The only movement in the kitchen came from Vissa's thumbs, tracing slow, steady circles in the center of her son's palms. Then, taking a deep breath, Garrus spoke.

"I... was thirsty, last night, so I came to the kitchen to get water, but then I heard you talking to Dad, on a vid chat... and I know I'm not supposed to, but I stopped to listen and I heard Dad say he can't come home for your birthday, because work."

Vissa opened her mouth to interrupt, but her son shook his head. "You've told me before, Mom. Dad's always busy with work, but it's not his fault, I know. But you always hum kinda louder in the morning when Dad's about to come home— and then this morning you didn't hum, not even a little— so I thought you might be sad. And, I know Dad always makes you teffea in the morning when he's home, so... "

Garrus's eyes darted to the tin forgotten on the counter, before re-affixing his gaze to the floor.

"I was going to make teffea for you, on your birthday, but I'm not big enough to use the stove. So I thought, maybe I could build a teffea maker, like the ones we see ads for sometimes, and then Sol and I could make teffea for you tomorrow and say "Happy Birthday, Mom,' the way Dad says it, and then maybe you won't be sad that Dad's not here."

Vissa was so surprised, her thumbs stilled on Garrus' palms. His face crumpled, misinterpreting her surprise for anger. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm really sorry. I didn't want to keep it a secret from you, I swear, and I know I shouldn't've used Sol's toy, but..."

Vissa wrapped Garrus in a hug and nestled his face into the crook of her neck. Garrus' breath caught and his keening subsided. "Mom?"

"Oh, my beloved boy. Have I ever told you you're my favorite son?"

Garrus' voice was muffled when he replied, but his confusion was evident. "Mom, I'm your  _only_  son."

"I know, dear, I know."

The kitchen fell silent again, until Garrus spoke up again, voice barely above a whisper. "Mom... aren't you mad at me?"

"Hmm..." Vissa paused in mock contemplation before continuing, "I could be mad. In fact, some might say I  _should_  be mad. But... I do believe you were only acting on the purest of intentions when you did what you did. Except for pulling your sister's mandible of course..." The younger turian began to squirm again in his mother's arms. "But I believe you already know what you did was wrong, and I trust it won't happen again. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, Mom." Garrus whispered into his mother's neck, and she smiled. "I want you to remember this, Garrus. Even actions borne from good intentions can have disastrous consequences. I think you learned that lesson today. So I want you to think, the next time you act, because the best of intentions still mean nothing if they lead to disaster. Do you understand, Garrus? Will you remember?"

Garrus whispered again, so silent that despite their close proximity, Vissa had to strain her ears to hear. "Yes, Mom. And... I'm sorry."

"Now, why don't you show me this teffea machine you were working on, and maybe we can finish building it together." Vissa took a deep breath, stood up, and offered a hand to her son.

Garrus' small hand snaked into hers, and he smiled tentatively. "And... maybe Solana can help, too."

"You know what, my dear? I think that sounds like an excellent plan."

* * *

"Do you think people are inherently good, Garrus?"

Garrus shot his sister a skeptical look before refocusing on the steadily darkening meat popping and hissing in the pan. "Well, Sol, that's a hell of a question."

"Well,  _Gare_ ," Sol snarked, imitating her brother and using the nickname she knew he despised, "that's a hell of a nonanswer."

Garrus glared. Then he ran a hand over his fringe and gazed at the ceiling. After a beat, he looked down and replied. "I used to, Sol. I don't know if I do, anymore. Not after what I've seen."

Solana set her mug down, unconvinced. "Oh come  _on_ , Garrus. You've seen plenty of good. Dad is a good turian, isn't he? Your squadmates on the Normandy are good people, aren't they? That human Commander of yours that you're fringe over heels for-?"

Garrus choked, and stared pointedly at the sizzling meat, prodding it with a talon before flipping it over with a spatula.

Solana huffed in exasperation. "Have you looked in the mirror, lately? I mean, you're ugly, yeah, but the fact that you exist? The things you've done? Don't you think that you're proof enough?"

Garrus shook his head, still turned away from his sister. "I don't know about that, Sol. I've done a lot of... questionable things. Grey things."

His sister huffed again, and Garrus didn't need to turn around to know that her arms were crossed and her mandibles were pulled tight against her cheeks in annoyance.

"Let me tell you a story, then. While you were off-world, fighting tooth and talon to save the galaxy—which, just let me say, if literally risking your life to save billions  _isn't_  a good thing, I don't know what is—I was watching Palaven go up in flames around me. It was a nightmare, Garrus, I don't need to tell you that. I'll never forget the... the horrors I saw. But I also saw so much good. I saw how people banded together, how people sacrificed their lives to save others."

Garrus snorted. "That's not 'inherent good,' Sol. That's the turian sense of duty kicking in. Die for the cause, remember?"

"Except it wasn't, Garrus. It's not. The Hierarchy was in no shape to monitor whether people were carrying out their 'duties.' There was no cause to die for anymore, not for civs, anyways. So many,  _so many_ , turians could've turned and fled instead of gathering the wounded or defending the weak. A lot of them failed, obviously. They died alongside the people they were trying to save, with no one to remember their sacrifice."

Garrus jabbed at the meat, testing for doneness a little more violently than necessary, if he was being totally honest, before sliding the steaming indigo slab onto a cutting board. He turned his attention to the cutlery drawer, rifling through it for a knife. "Huh. Still not convinced."

Solana's chair creaked again, and Garrus imagined she was leaning forward, elbows planted on the counter. "Well, let me tell you about the turian who saved me. Saved us. Because he sure as hell wasn't bound by any sort of duty."

Garrus found the knife he was looking for, a brushed metal thing with a long, dimpled blade, and began slicing the meat into strips. The strips fell away, revealing a lavender-clored cross-section of meat that darkened to a deep indigo near the edges. Steam from the fresh cuts wafted up, and Garrus took a deep breath to appreciate the aroma. Then he turned around to face his sister and quirked his mandibles. "Saved you? You never told me about this before. I didn't realize you needed... saving."

Just like he thought, Solana was leaning on the counter, plated elbows planted firmly on the glass. She glared. "Broken leg, remember? Besides... everyone needed saving when the Reapers attacked, Garrus. Everyone."

Garrus crossed his arms and leaned back against the cryo unit. Solana sighed. "Well, we weren't planning to leave Palaven, not at first. Dad didn't want to leave the house, not while Mom's stuff was still there, and I wasn't about to leave him. We did our best to hold off any occasional Collectors and... what were they called? Husks?"

"Mm. Hated those things."

"Well, if any husks happened to wander our way, we blasted their heads off. Between C-Sec's retired top officer and his Engineer Corps daughter, those monsters didn't stand a chance. It was only when Hierarchy platoons started flooding our neighborhood, told us that a Reaper was coming, that I finally convinced Dad to pack Mom's things and go offworld." Solana sighed and glanced at her brother as he reopened the cryo unit and squinted into its frosty interior. "We'd barely finished packing everything into two bags—can you imagine that? Packing up a whole life— _Mom's_  life—into two bags?—We'd barely finished packing everything when the first laser hit. A whole block of homes vaporized before our eyes, Garrus. I knew we had to go."

Garrus nodded wordlessly and pulled a bunch of tightly clustered teal berries out of the cryo unit before closing it again. He knew things had been bad, but it was still hard to hear his baby sister—not so much a baby anymore, obviously—recount the destruction of the neighborhood they'd grown up in.

"A few soldiers gathered us and some other survivors in the area, told us where the evac shuttles were and where they'd take us—not that we cared much about where we were going, so much as we got off Palaven. They'd escort us, they said. They'd protect us."

Solana shook her head, running one hand over her bare head and picking up her teffea with the other. In one deft motion, Garrus slid his hand down the bunch of berries, stripping half of them from the vine, and piled them on a plate. Garrus' mandibles tightened as his sister exhaled sharply before continuing her story.

"They were terrified. Terrified and so, so young. I wouldn't have placed a single one of them above twenty-two."

Solana sighed again, and took a deeper drink from her mug. "They didn't make it. We all knew they wouldn't. What did rookies fresh out of training know about real combat? Every civ in the group had more experience than they did."

Garrus tried to picture what he'd been like as a recent graduate ready for his first tour in the turian military. He'd been scared witless by the first vorcha he'd seen, let alone fought. He couldn't imagine how terrified he'd have been by a banshee or a brute, let alone a Collector.

* * *

Garrus Vakarian had read about vorcha before. Hell, he'd seen them all the time as the vicious baddies in action vids. But facing down a squad of vorcha— staring into cruel red eyes and gnashing needle teeth in real life was a different story altogether. Garrus couldn't help it. All the years of Hierarchy-sanctioned training was scrubbed from his mind by the crackling static of all-consuming fear. He committed the cardinal sin of the battlefield. Garrus froze.

"Turiansss...  _die_!"

The soldier who'd been standing in front of Garrus a moment before— Peralys, his name was— collapsed in a spray of blue blood. Another soldier standing to his side— Garrus couldn't recall her name— stumbled back in momentary shock before she burst into flames.

"I  _kill_ you!"

Garrus was next. He knew it. He screwed his eyes shut, turning to the Spirits and sifiting through his stricken mind for a final prayer. But the words that broke through the panic weren't those of a prayer. They weren't the protocols boot camp instructors had spent months drilling into his head, either. They were Castis Vakarian's words, spoken on a long-ago day among a makeshift shooting range set up against the rocky outcrops of Cipritine's grassy plains.

Garrus had been a mere child, then, barely initiated in the ways of the gun. Castis was training his son to shoot bottles off of a rock. Garrus wanted to give up— hours of fruitless shooting under Trebia's relentless rays and hoisting a heavy, unfamiliar rifle had rendered the young turian sore and eager for a reprieve. His father was having none of it.

_"This is when you pull yourself together and you do it."_

Garrus opened his eyes and lifted his Avenger.

_"Because if you stop now—"_

He sized up his adversaries. Three vorcha, all armed with shotguns, heading his way.

_"—If you give up something when it gets hard—"_

Garrus took a deep breath and brought the vorcha into his crosshairs.

_"—You're never going to make it anywhere in life."_

He exhaled. His forefinger tightened around the trigger.

_"Now."_

The vorcha charged. Garrus fired once.

_"Again."_

Twice.

_"My job as your father isn't to make your life easy—"_

Three times. Garrus lowered his gun.

 _"—i_ _t's to teach you how to be an adult."_

The bullets found their marks. The vorcha, each sporting a gaping hole in the center of their forehead, fell backwards in a puff of grey dust, and five pair of eyes— two turian blue, three vorcha red— stared into a sky they'd never see again.

* * *

"Still," Solana resumed her story after a thoughtful pause. "The soldiers did pretty well. Got us maybe two-thirds of the way to the evac zone before a horde of husks and a few Collectors flanked us. Then, well-"

Solana made some halfhearted gestures with her free hand. Garrus had no idea what most of them meant, but when she pointed to her left leg—her injured leg, the one missing a spur—the meaning was clear enough.

"After... I want to call it a fight, but it was more a massacre, really. Well, after that... encounter, little more than half the group was in any shape to go on. One turian refused to leave her mate behind, even though it was painfully obvious that he'd left with the spirits. I can still see her kneeling over his body...he'd lost an arm and half his cowl to a particle beam blast. He was covered in more blue than I'd ever seen..."

At this, Garrus crossed the kitchen to lay a hand on his sister's arm. "Sol. Are you sure you want to..."

Solana just fixed him with one of her patent glares, the ones Garrus suspected she picked up from their mother, and took another sip from her mug. She let Garrus' hand remain on her arm, though.

"Anyways, with my leg busted, I was tempted to stay behind too."

Garrus' arm tightened, but she glared at him again and continued.

" _Obviously,_  Dad wouldn't let that happen. So he pulled me up and wrapped his arm around my cowl and did his best to support me. But we were moving too slowly, Garrus. I knew, and the others knew that at the pace I was going, the whole group was going to get killed. I told Dad that and he got mad, Garrus. Really mad. Make-a-hardened-batarian-slaver-ringleader-sob-with-all-four-eyes mad."

Garrus chuckled. He knew what she was talking about. He'd been on the receiving end of that brand of mad before, and it had always left him wishing he could melt into a puddle, plates and all.

"He said to me, not loudly, but in that quiet voice of his that's actually scarier, something like-" Solana pitched her voice comically low, and continued in a gravelly stage-whisper. "'Solana Vakarian. What kind of man do you think I  _am_ —do you think I would be—to leave someone behind because they're injured? Because they're a liability? If we leave a single member behind, we're no longer a team. And may the spirits be damned if I ever,  _ever_  leave behind a member of my own family. We fight together and we die together, Solana.'"

Solana waved her arm. "You know how he is. 'Do things right or not at all.' I was still reluctant to go on, but I guess his speech inspired someone else in the group. This gaunt guy stepped up, said he'd help us. I have to say, Garrus, I was skeptical. He was barefaced, for one, and he was a greenplate."

Garrus winced at the slurs that slid so easily from his sister's mouth. For all their meritocratic inclinations, turians still had their share of discrimination. Barefaced turians lacked the colony markings sported by most turians, and greenplates were simply turians with the misfortune of being born with greenish plates instead of grey ones. They were treated like second-class citizens; not overtly, of course, but every turian knew that the barefaced and the greenplates got the worst deployments to the far reaches of the Terminus Systems, got stationed at the coldest, most remote turian colonies, got assignments to hellhole stations like Omega in the hopes they would disappear. "Sol. You know you shouldn't say that."

Solana huffed, and this time she did pull her arm out of Garrus' grasp. "I know, I know. But please, Garrus. Just let me finish, will you?"

He raised his arms in surrender and walked back to the cryo unit. Solana crossed her arms and continued.

"Like I was saying, no one in the group was willing to help us except for this sickly, barefaced greenplate. I was reluctant to accept, I mean, this guy looked like he'd topple with the slightest breeze, but I knew that for all his bravado, Dad was getting old. There was no way our old man'd be able to get the both of us to the evac zone. I think Dad knew it too. That's why he let the guy help. With the two of them supporting me, we made good time. Better time, at least. We still trailed behind the rest of the group."

Solana paused to drain the rest of her teffea in one gulp. She tapped the mug on the counter, asking for a refill, and Garrus turned from the reopened cryo unit, a carton of turquoise eggs in hand, with one browplate cocked.

"What's this? I thought my teffea-brewing skills left... something to be desired."

Solana smirked. "Hey, bad teffea is still better than no teffea." Garrus snorted and set the carton down, picking up and uncapping a carafe of pale blue liquid instead. He walked back to the counter and refilled Solana's outstretched mug.

"See that color, Garrus? It's too light. You need to steep it longer to really get the roasted flavor."

Garrus snorted again, recapping the carafe and setting it down. "Then  _you_  can wake up early to brew the teffea next time, Sol."

"Hmm, back to my story. Where was I?" Solana purposely let her gaze wander, not meeting Garrus' eyes. Garrus twitched his mandibles and picked up a few eggs with a good-natured sigh. "Some turian decided to help you?"

"Oh, yeah." Solana took a sip from her mug before setting it aside. "That turian. Plates can be decieving, as they say. He was actually pretty strong, and he knew how to handle a gun. He kept an eye out, made sure we didn't get flanked again, and he helped Dad take out any husks and Collectors that got too close. I did what I could with my omnitool, overloading those... turian husks and incinerating Collectors. We made quite the team, given the circumstances. But then, inevitably I guess, we got separated from the other refugees."

Garrus frowned. He was frying the eggs now, puncturing the shells with a sharp talon before pouring their contents into the pan, but he paused at his sister's nonchalance. "Separated? You  _mean_  they left the three of you behind. What happened to there being good in the world?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Solana shrug. "I didn't say the world was  _all_  good. Anyways, by the time we got to the evac zone, it was chaos. There were bodies everywhere. The Collectors had smartened up... I guess they were targeting individual groups of refugees as they arrived. The husks were swarming shuttles before they could take off. The group we were part of— _had_  been part of—wasn't so lucky. We arrived just in time to see them go down."

She took another sip. Garrus flipped the eggs.

"We managed to slip into an out-of-the-way shuttle with another trio of turians. That's when our luck ran out."

Garrus frowned. "The husks noticed you?"

Solana shook her head. "Even worse. The  _Collectors_  noticed us. For such large things, they sure moved fast, Garrus. Faster than the shuttle could take off." She managed a weak grin. "I really thought that was the end of the line for us. The Collectors were closing in and I was clutching Dad's hand and making my peace with the spirits. But that turian, that gaunt, haunted turian stood up and grabbed his rifle. Like some stupid vid hero, he looked at us and smiled and said, 'I can do something about them. Make those bastards think twice before invading Palaven and slaughtering turians on the streets.' And then he charged, guns blazing, straight into a squad of Collectors. Can you believe that? He bought us just enough time to make it out."

Something about that turian's words gave Garrus pause. He didn't know why, but they were achingly familiar. They sounded like words he would've said, once.

Liquid sloshed as Solana tilted into her mug. "Anyways. My point is that this turian gave his life to give us a chance. For all he knew, a Reaper laser could've shot down our shuttle the second we took off."

Garrus scooped an egg out of the pan and slid it onto a plate. "I don't even want to think about that, Sol."

"You know it's true."

"Still."

Solana groaned. "You're missing the  _point_  here, Garrus."

"What is the point, then?"

"That this turian, this unknown, selfless turian was willing to sacrifice himself to save an old man and a crippled woman. If that's not proof that there's good in this world, that there's good inherent to this world, I don't know what is."

Solana rapped her mug on the counter for emphasis, and Garrus' subharmonics thrummed in contemplation as he arranged a pile of sliced meat next to the fried egg. He picked up another egg and returned to the stovetop. "...Did you ever catch this unknown turian's name? Before he sacrificed himself for some greater, worldly good?"

"It was Lantar, I think. Lantar Sidonis."

Sidonis.

Garrus pierced the egg with too much force and it shattered in his hand. Fragments of turquoise eggshell and droplets of luminescent cyan yolk flew from his talons as he spun to face his sister.

"Sidonis?!" Garrus' subharmonics pitched wildly, phasing from thrum to screech in his agitation.

Solana stared, eyes wide. A blob of yolk slid down her cheek. "What the hell, Garrus?"

Garrus inhaled sharply and held his breath.

One. He closed his eyes.

Two. He unclenched his hands.

Three. He opened his eyes.

* * *

"Make it quick. What do you want?"

The first thing Garrus did after the suicide mission was make a call home. He'd been more than ready to lose everything— he'd been expecting it, to be honest— and the relief that washed over the turian like the warmth of a Palaven sunrise inspired him to reestablish long-overdue contact with his family.

Solana had refused to sync up to the video chat, at first. Her irritation was understandable. Garrus had dropped off the radar for years, only sending the occasional chat message and no support, and suddenly he wanted to have a video late at night in Cipritine time?

Solana's eyes widened, and her mandibles flared in shock. "Spirits Garrus, is that really-? High Menae... What happened to you?"

Garrus attempted to chuckle. But his throat had gone dry at the sight of his sister, and the resulting rasp sounded more like a death rattle than a laugh. Solana's browplates fell even lower at the sound, and her mandibles drooped. "Why are you calling, Garrus? Your pleasure cruise over already?"

"You know it. Even got you a little something, Sol. A Collector particle beam. Heavy weapons aren't my thing, but I know you've always been fond of heavy-handed, mass destruction."

"Shut up. A Collector particle beam? Really?" Solana frowned and leaned back. "That's a stretch, even for you. I don't need more of your Spectre fantasies. Not when you probably just got so shit-faced they kicked you off Illium and—"

Solana turned off camera, more worried than ever. "Mom— ah, Ms. Vakarian. You should be resting."

"Who are you talking to, at such a late hour?" The voice, their mom's voice, was familiar, but there was something... hollow about her subharmonics. Vissa Vakarian wandered into view of the camera, and Garrus had to bite back a gasp. He'd seen his mother in person a few years ago, when the disease was still in its early stages, and she'd been healthy as ever.

"Is that Castis? Oh, Castis, what happened to your face!  _You_  look like the one who's been hit by a skycar, not me!" Vissa leaned in close, caressing the camera lens as if it were a face.

Garrus knew the effects of Corpalis Syndrome only accelerated with time, countless nights spent poring over any medical literature he could get his talons on had seen to that... but his mother looked so indescribably worse than he'd expected, he had no words. She'd lost weight, for one. Turians were a relatively slender species, but Vissa looked positively emaciated. Her eyes, once clear blue, were clouded by the milky white of dementia and age, and the gaps between her upper and lower jaws were gaping voids that, Garrus noted with some horror, lacked teeth. Vissa's plates were dull, matte, almost, and ragged around the edges, and her exposed hide was sun-bleached and withered.

"Mom, I'm not—" Solana shook her head. Garrus' jaw clicked shut.

"I'm glad you came to see me, but what happened to that case you were working on? I hope the Executor won't give you grief over this."

Garrus forced himself to smile. "It's not a problem. Um, a few days' leave won't do much harm. ...But how are you, uh, holding up?"

"I'm fine, my love. A little sore, but nothing time won't heal. These silly bandages make it look worse than it is!" Vissa gestured at the right side of her un-bandaged face and chuckled. It was a hollow sound, raspy and cold and devoid of any real emotion that made both Vakarian siblings wince. This turian wasn't their mother, not anymore. She was a pale imitation, distorted memories cobbled together by an ailing brain.

"Now, my love, I'm glad you're here. I'm worried about our boy, you see. It's like... something's broken in him, ever since he chose to visit me at the hospital and forfeit his summer scholarship. I know you want him to follow in your footsteps, and our boy knows that too, but... you're two very different turians, my love, and I'm starting to wonder if Garrus should be walking a different path."

Solana shot Garrus a concerned look. "Ms. Vakarian, I really think you should rest."

Vissa sighed, and placed one bony hand on Solana's shoulder. "Doctor, let me finish. Please." She turned back towards the camera. "Now, Castis. I know you mean well. You always do. But we both know Garrus is quite... how did you put it? Un-turian, I believe. And C-Sec is a decidedly turian organization. It's very... black and white, the way most turians are. And I don't want to risk... I would never forgive myself if I let the color be taken from our boy's world."

Garrus felt his throat constrict like a krogan had his neck in a vise grip. "I... um, I think it's a bit late for that."

Solana stared. Vissa scoffed. "Oh  _please_ , Castis. You know there's no such thing as too late."

Garrus heard Solana's bedroom door open, and his sister turned towards the sound. "Dad..." Castis Vakarian strode into view, and Garrus noted that while his hide bore new folds and his plates a weathered sheen borne of age, Castis appeared to be in good health.

"Solana, what is she—" Castis caught sight of Garrus' face on Solana's console and his mandibles twitched in surprise. "Garrus."

"Dad."

Castis stepped forward, catching his wife's eyes. "Let's get you to bed now, ma'am." He wrapped his hands around his wife's forearms. Vissa tried to shrug him off as she laughed. "Don't  _ma'am_  me, I'm not your commanding officer."

Castis stiffened, his face stricken in a moment of indescribable grief before his expression cleared and was replaced with the calm, controlled mask Garrus knew so well. Then he led Vissa out of the room, gave his children a curt nod, and closed the door.

Neither Garrus nor Solana spoke for a long time.

"...Spirits, Sol. How are you holding up?"

Solana glared. "I did  _not_  sync up for a vid chat in the  _middle_  of the night just for  _small talk_. You saw her. You saw Dad. You  _know_  how well I'm holding up. If you have nothing important to say, I'm ending the call.  _Some_  of us have actual jobs they need to go to in the morning." She wasn't bluffing. Garrus could see her hand hovering over the "Disconnect" button near the bottom of the screen, ready to end the call at any second.

Garrus sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I'm coming home. That's all I wanted to say."

* * *

Garrus exhaled shakily, leaning, once again, on the cryo unit for support. No wonder those words had seemed so familar. They were Garrus' words. Some of the first words he'd spoken to Sidonis after saving his ass from a gang of angry Blood Pack mercs in the Afterlife club on Omega. But Solana didn't know about Omega. If Garrus had his way, his sister would never know about Omega. But he didn't want to lie to her. He couldn't lie to her. Just like their mother, Solana could see right through him. So Garrus settled for the simplest of truths he could manage.

"I... knew Sidonis, once. Saved his life because I thought he was a good man. Then he proved me wrong. About him. And about the world as a whole."

Solana blinked.. She knew her brother well enough to feel the weight of his words and burden of things left unspoken. She was more than smart enough to back off and, for once, not pry. Garrus pushed away from the cryo unit, turning away from Solana and tossing the ruined egg into the trash compactor. He couldn't forgive Sidonis, couldn't tell Solana about his betrayal, at least not yet, but Garrus  _could_  give the deceased turian his gratitude.

_'I'll try Garrus. I'll make it up to you, somehow.'_

Under his breath, Garrus muttered a prayer to the spirits. "...Betrayal repaid, Sidonis."

Solana cocked her head to the side. "What was that?"

Garrus just shook his head and wiped his hand on his apron. He flexed his mandibles for a moment, contemplating, before he spread them wide and picked up the plate laden with food. "I used to see the world in black and white. Life was easier, back then. I knew who I was. I knew where I stood. Then... lines blurred, things I believed in lost their definition, and for a long time I was living in a world of greys. But..." Garrus paused to set Solana's breakfast on the counter in front of her and he smirked. "I might be starting to see that there are other colors in the world, too."

Solana hummed and contemplated the plate before her.  _'Well, Gare,'_  she thought,  _'that's still one hell of a nonanswer.'_  Out loud, she snarked, "I'm guessing your world has a lot of blue?"

"Ha. Very funny, Sol." Garrus leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, cocking one browplate at his sister. Solana popped a couple of berries in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Well, one of us has to be."

Garrus snorted and shook his head. "Solana Vakarian, this is the last time I make you teffea  _or_  breakfast."

Solana barked back a retort, pointing one talon at her brother and laughing. Behind her, Castis's bedroom door open and he stepped through, back straight and head held as high as ever before he tilted it inquisitively.

For a second, he stood in his doorway, watching from across the central room as Garrus and Solana chatted in the kitchen. Seeing his children like this, all grown up and still together despite everything the universe had thrown at their family caused his chest to prickle in a way that he couldn't quite explain. In another life, it had been Castis and Vissa bantering in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and sipping teffea before the children woke up.

Losing Vissa still hurt like hell—there wasn't a day he didn't think of her, wouldn't be until the day he died—but he still had his children. Vissa's children, because Garrus and Solana both took after her from the arch of their brows to the curve of their mandibles to the dogged stubbornness and vitality that defined his wife even as she fell deeper and deeper into the grasp of Corpalis Syndrome.

Castis Vakarian was not one for lingering on the past, nor was he one for regrets. He would not regret his absence during his children's formative years. He would not regret pushing his only son away for a decade over their C-Sec differences. He would not regret ignoring the early warning signs of his wife's disease until it was too late. But Castis Vakarian was not one to create the opportunity for regrets, either. His family—what was left of it, anyways—had survived against insurmountable odds, and that was a Spirits-given gift he wasn't about to take for granted.

So the elder Vakarian strode forward, entering the sunlit kitchen of his miraculously undamaged home, and his mandibles twitched into the faintest of smiles.

"Good morning, Garrus, Solana."

* * *

A young turian woman with ivory-tinted plates sat languidly underneath a copse of silver trees, admiring the sapphire blossoms adorning the tangled boughs above her. A gentle breeze meandered through the foliage overhead, trailing petals in its wake and depositing a flower in her lap, and she laughed in delighted surprise. It was a jovial sound, subharmonics verging on musical, that echoed through the trees. She twirled the flower between two talons, once, twice, before the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention and she looked up, hands stilled but posture at ease.

A stern-faced turian gazed down at her with azure eyes set underneath browplates colored a blue so light it verged on white. "My apologies. I didn't realize this location was already occupied. I'll be taking my leave. Good day, ma'am." He spun on his heel and began to stride away. The young woman laughed again, and he jerked to a halt as if shocked, turning his head in a tentative question.

"You know," the female turian began, "you don't have to leave on my account. I don't mind the company."

The other turian shifted, his face drawn in consternation. "I do not... that is, um. Uh."

"There's plenty of room here for two turians, come on." She patted the ground next to her and spread her mandibles in a smile, a smile that widened as the male turian turned around and slowly made his way to her side. He slid to a seat next to her, shoulders drawn up and arms rigid by his sides.

She nudged him with a playful shoulder. "Hey, there's no need to be so stiff. I'm not your commanding officer."

The stern-faced turian nodded. Stiffly. The woman began to wonder if he was truly stern, or simply shy. She tilted her head in contemplation. Then she plucked the blossom from her lap and tucked it in the other turian's fringe.

"Wha-?" He reeled back, staring at her in slack-mandibled bafflement as a blue tinge worked its way up his unplated neck. She laughed. So he was shy, then. "Sorry. Just thought vakari flowers match your markings."

They sat in comfortable silence for another moment, before she turned to properly face the other turian. "I'm Vissa, by the way. What's your name?"

He lifted his chin and drew his shoulders back like a cadet lining up for roll call. "Castis. Castis Vakarian."

The leaves murmured in the wind, and a distant bird began to sing. Vissa laughed again. Some of the tension in Castis' shoulders melted away.

"Good morning, Castis Vakarian."

 

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I want to say thank you for reading my first (and hopefully not last) fic in the ME universe. I hope I captured Garrus' voice accurately, and I hope Castis, Solana, and Vissa came out as believable characters. When I started this fic, I intended for the "flashback" vignettes to be lighthearted, while the "present" story, Garrus cooking breakfast and Solana recounting how she and Castis fled Palaven, was meant to be more somber. In the end, though, the vignettes ended up being somber too, so I apologize for writing almost 9000 words of depression.
> 
> I wrote this oneshot with a lot of things in mind and the intention of tying up loose ends. Castis and Solana and Garrus' unnamed mother are little more than passing whispers in the ME series. (It's interesting to note that almost every squad member has a family-related loyalty mission, but Garrus' mission is focused on exacting vengeance on Sidonis.) Sure, we see a little bit of Garrus' parents in the Garrus issue of ME: Homeworlds, which I lifted dialogue from for this fic, and we see some Solana-Garrus interaction in the Shadow Broker's dossier on Garrus, but it's still not cohesive enough to satisfy me.
> 
> I know I'm far from the first— and I'm certainly not the last— person to write about the Vakarians, but I wanted to flesh out my own vision of Garrus and his family. My goal was to answer a few questions that've been floating around in my head for ages: 1) What was Garrus' mother like, before and after she developed Corpalis Syndrome? 2) How did Solana and Castis escape Palaven? 3) What happened to Sidonis? 4) How does Garrus reconcile with his family after ME2? 5) How does Garrus' view of the world change throughout the entirety of Mass Effect?  
> I'd like to think this fic satisfies those questions for you as it did for me, though I definitely want to delve deeper into these questions some other time.
> 
> Please kudos/bookmark this story if you'd like to see more ME fanfiction from me, and drop a comment if you have the time— what kind of questions do you have about the Vakarian family?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading my exploration of the Vakarians. I certainly enjoyed writing it.


End file.
